On with the Motley

Story contd.

Thou art not a man, thou’rt but a jester!
On with the motley, and the paint, and the powder!
The people pay thee, and want their laugh, you know!
If Harlequin thy Columbine has stolen, laugh Punchinello!
The world will cry, "Bravo!"

I saw an old Italian film of the opera Pagliacci and when the eponymous hero sang ‘On with the motley’ I thought I understood his angst. In spite of my lovely boys, my home, a good husband, my shop, the theatre and good friends I felt this inner yearning and it is only now, at this late stage of my life, that I understand what I was looking for.

The theatre club were impressed by my having attended a production course and invited me to do one myself. I thought I had better start with a one act play and as John Mortimer was a big name then I chose his ‘Lunch Hour.’ It was the era when the’ Anyone for tennis?’ middle class drama was beginning to look old hat and the theatre of the absurd was rearing its ugly head.

‘Lunch Hour’ was a sad/comic tale of a man and a younger woman having a liaison in a shabby hotel near King’s Cross. The only other character is the Manageress who, unbeknownst to the girl has been told a long involved cover story of his wife having travelled down from Scarborough, with the children who have been left with a sister in law in another part of the town. Unfortunately the girl knows nothing of this and in the course of the crazy conversation discovers she has three children, a sister in law, and that there have been family rifts since the wedding.

It all becomes real to the girl and she quickly becomes the injured wife, romance goes out of the window and the affair is over before it has begun. It must have been hilarious with the original cast of Wendy Craig, Emlyn Williams and Alison Leggatt but whilst my man and manageress were very good, the girl couldn’t quite get it. Still the committee liked it enough to ask me to do a full blown production. This time I would make sure the key parts were played by more experienced actors and ‘The Deep Blue Sea’ and then ‘Separate Tables’ were productions I was proud of.

Julia - (who I had met through Pete– the first director I had worked with) -with all her experience - became a mentor and I looked forward to the day when I could have her in one of my plays. I had been intrigued by the play ‘The Unquiet Spirit’ by Jean –Jacques Bernard and Gary had even designed a set for it but Julia read it and said it would depress her too much and I understood what she meant. Not only was she a successful actress, director and writer she was also a member of the Crime Writer’s and invited me to go with her to their Christmas party.

I was thrilled to meet Kathleen Whitehorn; she was a journalist I much admired and had just written a very funny article on sluts (with regard to dress) and admitted she was one of the first order. I proudly told her I – at that very moment - was relying on a safety pin to hold up my bra. Julia said she was asked who was the girl who looked like she had escaped from a James Bond movie – not the impression I wanted to give at all.

Another trip to London was to a lecture by a foreign man -whose name escapes me - on set design. When I asked him how I could create the effect of peeling wall-paper for ‘Lunch Hour’ he suggested I paper the set and then peel it. No short cuts then!

The sixties was a time of change and people tended to question the beliefs they had hitherto accepted. I became increasingly aware of the gulfs between the haves and the have-nots; of the families who lived their happy peaceful lives without much care for the unhappy dysfunctional people and I rebelled against anything that branded anyone as lesser humans. I had always been receptive to other people’s worries but now it was as if I had a sign on my forehead which said 'Stop here and tell me your problems. ' This was some time before I actually became a Samaritan and before I befriended someone who helped me to keep my head above water.